


Lost Composure

by tokiidokii



Category: THE iDOLM@STER, The iDOLM@STER Sidem
Genre: Emetophilia, F/M, Female Reader, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Vomiting, this is like really gross im sorry, well not really because i wrote it but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 13:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14021280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokiidokii/pseuds/tokiidokii
Summary: The prince isn't so princely at the moment.(F!Producer takes care of very ill Hokuto. Graphic depictions of vomiting and pure self indulgence inside.)





	Lost Composure

**Author's Note:**

> this is Real Gross and -1 people wanted this so here i am to deliver

It was late. Quite late, actually. You should have gone home awhile ago, honestly, but a tour was coming up and you needed to ensure everything was arranged. You even sent Ken home awhile ago - but you weren’t alone. Hokuto, unsurprisingly, had offered to keep you company after finishing the day’s regular work. You tried to tell him it was unnecessary, but he had more motives than flirting with you. As Jupiter’s former manager, he was interested in looking over some documents and paper you had related to their recent sales numbers. Old habits die hard you supposed.

You were starting to wonder about your flirting hypothesis again as he hung around the office asking what he could do to help in a voice that sounded like he was suggesting sexual favors.

Really, he should go home.

The request was on the tip of your tongue when you suddenly hear a loud THUD a few feet away. Your head darts up to see Hokuto picking himself off the ground, dusting off any dirt on his clothes. He doesn’t seem to realize you noticed that.

“Woah, are you okay?” You ask, lowering your pen. Hokuto never misses a beat, looking at you with a reassuring smile.

“I’m alright. Perhaps I’ve been in your presence for too long, you’ve made me grow weak in the knees.”

“Yeah, well,” You start, unaffected and used to his weird flattery. “Maybe you should go home soon. It’s too late for public transportation, so I can take you if you want. Just let me finish up.”

“Take as long as you need. I wouldn’t have stayed this long if I didn’t want to, you know.”

You watch Hokuto circle around the couch and sit down on it. He walks weirdly though - his hand trails around the back, as if leading him forward. He sits down on the couch heavily, sighing a little. He must be tired.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Just developing a bit of a headache.” He replies.

He can feel it coming on. Hokuto sits on the couch and steels himself.

That answer satisfies you enough to get back to work. Hokuto stops moving around after that, body stilling on the couch. He sits there, arm over his eyes, unmoving. Realizing he must be asleep, you decide to work a little longer. No need to disturb him just yet.

Breathing out as you finish up, you gather your things and save waking Hokuto for last. You shake his shoulder to wake him up. He acts...dazed, to say the least. You expect some kind of weird comment, or even a smile, but he only squints and nods at you. 

He tries to stand up, but the whole world spins. Hokuto’s legs wobble dangerously, and he falls backwards onto the couch. He lands with a harsh gasp, as if he’s just been punched in the gut. Although, it rather feels like he’s been punched square in the face.

“Hokuto?!” You yell, confused. Hokuto grits his teeth and leans forward with his head in his hands.

“I’m...migraine...?” He manages, searching for words in his fog. His whole head hurts, but the left side hurts worse, feeling like it’ll cave in on itself at any moment. Trying to form coherent sentences feels like slogging through mud. 

You frown. How long has he just been sitting there in the office like that?

“We should...we should get you home.” You state, voice considerably quieter. You turn off the lights in the office, hoping it’ll help. Better late than never.

“Wait...” He asks, suddenly. You do as you’re told and stop in your tracks. When Hokuto says nothing after several moments, you wordlessly sit down next to him instead and wait for whatever it is he needs. The color drains from his face in seconds, turning pale, almost green. “Oh, God.”

Hokuto physically tenses, and he reels from the pain. His stomach rolls again, and a soft gag in the back of his throat causes another stab at his brain that makes the nausea worse. He’s going to throw up, and it’s going to be bad. Hokuto braces himself as he retches harder, he tries to gasp for breath but ends up swallowing it instead. A container is placed in his hands, which he’s very grateful for as he leans over and expels the air. 

Everything rushes out at his next attempt, putrid smell and taste leading to an explosion of agony that has him swallowing instead of breathing again. He burps into the trash can, distantly aware of thin fingers rubbing his back and the base of his tense neck. He’s so sore, it might feel nice if all of his senses weren’t overwhelmed with excruciating pain. Stomach emptied, he continues trying to vomit anyways, as if whatever was causing the migraine would come up and the pain would cease. It’s almost worse, his nose is plugged up and it’s hard to breathe. He wracks with heaves until his body decides it’s over, slumping over into someone. Hokuto doesn’t care who, he only closes his eyes and begs for the exhaustion to take him.

Hokuto lands with his full weight onto your shoulder, almost causing the trash can full of puke to tip over. You thankfully catch it just in time. You rub his back a little, trying to comfort him, and he moans in pain. As slow as possible, you hook his arm around your shoulder and stand up. Hokuto tries to stand with you, knees trembling violently with each step. It takes longer than either of you would have liked, but you manage to get him into the car and lay him down in the backseat.

You decide he’s coming with you to your place. It may be unprofessional, but there’s no way you can leave him unattended in this state.

Laying down on his back feels good, but Hokuto’s migraine intensifies as soon as the car starts jostling him around. He manages okay until a hard stop sends nausea crashing through him. He retches, straining as gravity works against him, and forces himself to flip onto his side as he vomits up acid onto the seat. Sweat beads and drips down his face, both a side effect from the vomiting and from the migraine.

You feel like you can’t get home fast enough, having heard Hokuto miserably gasp and heave for half the ride home. You open the back seat and prop him up, encouraging him to stand, but he puts you at arms length. 

“I-I’m g-“ He doubles over on the edge of the car seat to aim for the ground and clutches his stomach. Despite his warning, you rub his back, trying to offer what meager comfort that you can. One last mouthful of bile comes up with a loud, painful belch of air. He sits stock still, eyes screwed shut, sweat running down his face, and doesn’t even move as you loop his arm around your neck.

You practically carry him out, the tips of his shoes dragging lifelessly on the driveway pavement as you take him into your apartment. Your arm feels like it’s about to give out before you can get him to your bed, but you manage, dropping him down a little harder than you meant to. You take off his boots and his coat, then slide him underneath the covers. 

Noticing a damp spot of who-knows-what on your top with a grimace, you dig through the drawer and retrieve a fresh wash cloth. After running to the bathroom and soaking it in warm water, you return to find Hokuto in the same position, panting hard. 

“Hey, I’m going to wipe your face.” You mumble out the warning, but Hokuto still tenses a little. Easy, easy. 

Carefully, you run the rag around his mouth and his nose, cleaning whatever’s dried to his face. He’s still drenched in sweat, and you dab at it, but a wince from him convinces you to stop. It would be best to leave him alone for now, let him rest in your cool, dark room. You shut the door as quiet as you can manage, exhale, and whip out your phone. In this situation, there’s one person to call. On your first try, there’s no answer. On your second try, after several rings-

“H’llo...? Producer...?” Touma mumbles. Relieved, you walk outside onto the balcony to talk out of range of Hokuto.

“Sorry to call you so late at night. See, I have a problem...” You start. “Hokuto hung by the office, and he ended up with a really bad migraine. Do you know what to do about it?”

“Oh man, again?” Touma perks up. “He had a couple from back when we were indie. I think they were stress related, he hasn’t had a single one since we joined 315Pro...”

“He was up pretty late today...” Guilt nags at you. You should have sent him home as soon as he mentioned a headache.

“Wait, where is he right now? If you’re taking him home, I’m not sure if it’s good idea for him to be alone. He only had them when we were around, so we could keep an eye on ‘im.”

“Aha...about that...” It hits you. “He’s kind of...in my bed?”

“...”

“I panicked and didn’t want him to be alone either!”

“You know you’ll never hear the end of this from him, right?” Touma asks, restraining laughter.

“If he does, he’ll never hear the end of throwing up in the backseat of my car.” You’ve seen Hokuto incredibly out of his princely, composed persona tonight. Your emotional blackmail has to be even - not that you would, of course! - but it should be enough to shut him up. Regardless, that makes Touma chuckle.

“Ah...poor guy. Man, I can’t help but feel like these headaches started because of us.”

“It’s not your fault. Hokuto has a tendency to hide when something’s bothering him because he’s so concerned about his image.”

“Trust me, I know that better than anyone.” Touma hums. “Oh, right, you wanted to know what to do about it?”

“Is there anything I can do? He’s in so much pain...”

“Uhh...” Touma’s sleepy brain lags for a moment. “Oh yeah! Put some ice on the back of his neck. We tried that last time and he said it feels good.”

“Ice his neck, huh...” You mentally note. You figured either ice or heat would do the trick, but you weren’t sure which.

“Yeah, and he’ll be really sore there in the morning. I tried to rub his back once, but he complained I’m ‘too rough’.” Touma says, almost sounding offended. You doubt you could touch him so intimately and live it down. 

“In the morning? How long do they usually last?”

“He’s only had a couple of them but they both lasted around...six? Eight hours? Something like that.”

“Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said! Can’t convince him to get medication for it, either. And he calls me stubborn.”

“I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you for any longer than necessary, so thanks for answering.”

“Yeah, no problem. If you tried calling Shouta he’d just turn off his phone.”

“I figured. Thanks again, Touma. Good night.”

“G’night.” Touma responds, and then he hangs up.

Okay. 

Ice. 

There are no cold compresses in your fridge, so it takes you a minute to come up with something to put on Hokuto’s back. A ziplock bag in the pantry catches your eye. You fill it up with several ice cubes, then wrap it in the softest, fluffiest towel you can find. Slowly opening the door to your room, you tiptoe back towards Hokuto. He’s maneuvered onto his side, and he’s either unresponsive or uncaring about your presence. For once, things are made a little easier. All you have to do is gently prop the compress up against the back of his neck.

His fingers twitch at the stimuli. You watch him, waiting for another response if any at all. He’s quiet. You’re about to give up and leave again when he moves, sucking in air between his clenched teeth, and presses his weight into the cold sensation with a groan. Satisfied, you leave the room and settle down on the couch to rest.

All you can do now is wait for Hokuto to ride it out. You sleep on and off all night, occasionally checking on Hokuto or putting fresh ice on his neck. You notice at around eight in the morning that he’s flipped onto his stomach with his head at a funny angle, passed out. The ice pack has been discarded onto the floor, leaking cold water onto the carpet. You pick it up, relieved by the sounds of Hokuto’s snores and deep, steady breathing. 

Luckily, you had no plans for coming into the office today and elected to get some work done on your laptop at home. Even if you did, you doubt you could leave Hokuto alone in this state, or worse, try to wake him up. You just hoped he would feel better once he woke up.

Which, predictably, took awhile. At one point you considered going and running some errands, but the thought of Hokuto waking up in an unfamiliar apartment bothered you. What if he needed something? Sighing, you bury yourself in your work and try to forget about it for a bit.

Which, you do. To the point where sluggish footsteps at around 3 p.m. catch you off guard, and Hokuto slowly stumbles into the living area.

He squints, surveying the room. You notice immediately the way he turns his body to look around, like he can’t move his neck at all. His skin is white as a sheet, although it has lost its sickly pallor. The usual spiked style of his hair has been mashed down with his sweat-dry bangs stuck to his forehead. His eyes droop, bloodshot and framed with dark circles. Hokuto blinks, stepping in your direction, then jumps when he notices you.

“Oh! Aha, I was wondering where I ended up.” He croaks the first couple of syllables, and his eyes light up with more energy than before. Whether he’s excited to see you or masking his exhaustion, you can’t tell. 

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Much better, now that I know the stranger’s bed I woke up in was yours.” He tries with a flirtatious tone.

“Yeah, you were laying in it drenched in sweat all night.” You reply. He deflates a little - you aren’t trying to hurt his feelings, you just don’t feel like putting up with his antics at the moment. You were worried, and you wanted a straight answer. “But really, how are you? Be honest. You look exhausted.”

“I...” Your genuine tone gets through to him. His hands shake, a fact he only seems to realize when his eyes widen as he runs a hand through his hair. “I feel exhausted. What time is it?”

“Almost three thirty.”

“Already? I can’t recall when I fell asleep, but it feels like I hardly slept at all.” He wavers a little, unsteady on his feet, and joins you on the couch. His holds himself with far less grace than usual, closing his eyes and going limp once he hits the couch with the exception of the way his neck sits rigidly on his shoulders.

“I think it was around 7 a.m. You were dead asleep when I checked on you at 8.” You tell him, pushing down the lid on your laptop. His eyes open at that.

“Ah...thank you, producer. You didn’t have to-“

“Of course I did. I’m your producer, it’s my job to help you.” Maybe taking him home with you was a little excessive, but, well, you panicked. “Although, I can only help you if you help yourself...you should have told me you were in pain.”

“I never meant to worry you.”

“There you go again. This isn’t about me, this is about you. Don’t keep up your persona that everything’s fine at the expense of your own health.”

“I...apologize.” Hokuto sighs. “I suppose I thought things wouldn’t get as bad this time.”

“If you had told me sooner, I could have taken you back to your place, and it would have been faster.” Maybe the pain would have lessened if he made it home before the worst kicked in.

“Hmm...But I’m glad you didn’t...that I had you to care for me while I was experiencing so much pain.” It sounds like one of his weird charm tricks, but genuine tone in his voice throws you off.

“I...I-I’m happy I could help.” Dammit, even you?

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“First, go see a doctor.” You reply a little too quickly. “You can’t keep having these.”

“Of course.” Hokuto answers, chuckling and letting his eyes slip shut. That doesn’t last long, however, as a low growl sounds out from inside of him. You swear embarrassment crosses his face for a split second.

“Second, let me do my job. Your body must be starving, not to mention dehydrated. You threw up your last meal, and that was yesterday.” You stand up and head towards the kitchen area. 

“I’m still feeling a bit sick to my stomach...” He admits. He turns his whole body to watch you as you putter around, but it clearly takes a lot of effort.

“You should at least try. You’ll probably feel better if you eat.” You pull out a box of crackers from the pantry. “How’s your head?”

“Sore...it aches, though not nearly as bad as before. It’s honestly a relief.”

“Would medicine help? I would have tried yesterday, but you were so sick I didn’t think you could keep it down.”

“Ah, if you would be so kind...”

You return a moment later with a plate of crackers, some pain medication, and a bottle of ginger ale from the fridge. Hokuto cups his hand gratefully to accept the pills and tosses them back with a gulp from the bottle. His eyes widen, suddenly hyperaware that he’s parched. Unable to tilt his head, he lays back gradually to guzzle it. 

“Easy now.” So much for feeling sick. Hokuto sighs with relief and reaches his trembling hand out for a cracker. “I feel stiff just looking at you.”

“Another unfortunate side effect...I can hardly move my neck.” He places the bottle down gently on the table and rubs his shoulder. “Ah, if only there was something someone could do for my back~”

“Do you want a heating pad?”

“...That actually sounds rather nice.” Hokuto admits, taking a bite.

You leave again to retrieve the heating pad. You plug it into the wall and show him how it works before unceremoniously dropping it down the back of his shirt. Hokuto jumps at that, startled by your sudden boldness. Really though, you just wanted a reaction out of him. Two can play at his game, after all. Hokuto lays there quietly, nibbling on his food and waiting for the heat to kick in. Within ten minutes, having something on his stomach has already brought some color back in his cheeks and stilled his trembling. You can tell the heating pad must be working, too, as his head nods forwards and jerks backwards almost in a lazy rhythm.

“Get some rest. Your body clearly still needs more time to recover.”

“I wou’nd’t wanna intrude.” He slurs. “Unless you’d like to watch me sleep...”

“It’ll be fine, I’ll take you home when you wake up.” He must be feeling more like himself, but you’re in disbelief he can act like that when he’s half asleep. “Also, you snore.”

“Shh, only when ‘m tired...” He mutters, slowly laying down on the couch with his head towards you. 

“Uh-huh, I’m sure.”

“Mhmmm...”

You give the cord of the heating pad a good yank to pull it out of the wall and turn it off without bothering him, and then cover him in the decorative blanket off the back of the couch. Seeing him curled up asleep gives you the urge to pet his hair, like he’s some big, nasty cat. You wait a few minutes until he starts snoring again. It’s considerably quieter than last night, almost like a purr.

Huffing, you place your hand on his head and wonder how Hokuto Ijuuin did this to you.

**Author's Note:**

> whoops!


End file.
